


Doggy Style

by GuiltyRed



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Canine?, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-28
Updated: 2009-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-05 10:01:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuiltyRed/pseuds/GuiltyRed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Remus goes feral, he doesn't lose <i>all</i> his human memories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doggy Style

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Doggy Style  
> Rating: NC17  
> Warnings: um…canine? ^_^;  
> Word count: 542  
> Summary: When Remus goes feral, he doesn't lose all his human memories.  
> Prompt: Sirius/Remus: wild side  
> A/N: Went a little out of my comfort zone with this one. ^_^;;;

  


The moon calls, and I must go.

Across the room, the shaggy black dog that is my best friend in all the world watches me with deep, calm eyes. He is motionless aside from his breathing, a steady sound that is utterly unafraid.

The change washes over me like a drowning wave. Human? No. Monster? I don’t _think_ so…

Gray wolf: tired, hurting. I – yes, I am _I_, within this skin – I wake from one dream into another, my mind circling like a hawk on rising air or a mote in a sunbeam. Human thoughts, wolf thoughts, neither and both. Awareness is not clear anymore.

A soft whine, a head lowered and a wagging tail – the black dog wants to play with me.

I don’t hurt too much for that.

He barks, excited, as I stretch and bow down over my paws.

Wait – _male_. Strong and large. I growl, uncertain. If I play, will he think himself dominant? My ears flatten against my head and I show him my teeth. I don’t want to fight him, but I will not allow him to rule me.

He rises and begins to circle cautiously, head down, hackles bristling and I know it will be combat this night.

I leap forward, snapping at his neck, but all I get is a mouthful of fur.

He shoulders into me, knocking me off-balance. I fall into a stream of moonlight and howl.

He licks his nose and lowers his head again, tail wagging ever so slightly, a tentative flag of truce – or surrender?

Images flood my mind, images of a black-haired boy with a barking laugh, of soft bare skin offered to my mouth without the slightest hint of fear. My thoughts grow loud again and I know the dog _is_ that boy and his name is Sirius.

I rush him, forcing him in a tight circle until I am at his hip. Then I rear up on my hind legs and grab him, my teeth just behind his ear. I pull him back until his fur tickles my belly.

The big black dog – _Sirius_ – goes quiet. He lowers his front and sweeps his tail aside like a bitch, accepting my dominance without bloodshed.

I can feel his heartbeat against my forelegs. His surrender excites me, wakes my prick to rub against the shaggy fur of his hindquarters.

He flinches and snarls as I bruise him with awkward thrusts, but he does not fight.

With a shudder I press inward. It is tight and dry and hot, and still he does not fight. My legs tense and I begin to fuck with short, quick jabs, humble and reverent in a way men can never know.

When I am done and I release him, he licks my face before cleaning himself. I bask in the moonlight the way a cat might bask in the sun, and I let my mind drift. I dream of being human, and in my dream the black-haired boy mounts _me_: in a bed, on the floor, over a chair, across a desk…

Always he is the one mounting, and I the mounted. Except tonight.

With sudden human clarity, I know that tomorrow’s ‘morning after talk’ is going to get just a little weird.

  



End file.
